Tag Archives: writing

A boy stands – –
– – and bears no crude telling—no rabbit-eyed, cog-laced moniker.
and the vital ever-drone of mortal pattering
precedes him.
( and he could’ve sworn they came to carve a sea of rulers—
crook-and-tallied with mortimer limbs and drowned in belly-fulls of
tellurian fauxcider ; – spiced with Neptune and an inkling of bluebird salt,as the recipe goes—)

A boy stands – –
– – and in creeping tow—waft scabrous hands:
exiles off the charted vales of Drosselmeyer — the old lore-lusting cadaver.
they arc and cast airs like hexed harpoons, ailing mimickers of graver portents—
of the long-horned Final Days.
( he keeps a keychain for a token of such looming times:
a shapen Babylon bodied with toyland-scrapers
and no miniature harlot in sight. )

A boy stands – –
– – eyes poised as parlours for the twilit homeless and marbled—( oh-so beyond-ly—)
as chromallyn compasses.i am misfit,croons the aurora down the spineless canal, past the vorpal loft that teems (startling) with wind-up comets (and a giddy rocking-horse rhyme- -)
(and while the earth spins a maw out of matcha-foil and plays society’s latrine for all-dastardly-time- -)the attic resides in the heart, pulsed with wonderland readings—
to this, he endeav

impudent. }
so scathes thy concrete will – –
out a mercury-spout, regulations hum
salacious song to sparrow’s meagre dance.
– – ah and,
you’d like the tune—wagers he, teeth brewing a shot of glee in the knife-night—the way it wraps itself
around those neural tombs
where you buried all and epsilons and me.

– where is your
{ hiss and tangent ; haemo-vengeance—where is your sparrow now

{ wretched warlockI bid to you, hello; I have- –
gin a-cacklin’ in the boiler-room
a quarter-bone away. you’d
want some.” – –claim a heckle, a high and the inverted-fang sculptor.

i’d reversed the spines while you were away
sapped minuses to imitation void.see? see—!

see the lacunae we groomed along that fallow equator- –
see the machinated looms, the figure-funnelssee the mecha-lark; its harrowed beginnings—

see the fledgeling corridor, the spite-lines- –
that haunt, a slave-movement to
{ bohemian nocturne , psi-concoction:
of Leviathan composer.see the mecha-lark; its macabre medium—

see my gift for you, prancing memento
see the { needle } in the winery,
the heart in the beat- –
;
ready the adieu, ready
for the mortal turbine in the blue.for the ribcage roundabouts that spin, livid—for you. my defamation darlingand see the mecha-lark, its avant-end—

and It tells you, in whispers esoteric (technical waifs, I’d befriended them – –
friends ; I’d always wanted, you know—
that there are creeping codes to living , – –
a city of vermin posing as civilian cryptogram
to marshal revelry in robotic blanche, and safeguard
{ the Colon command }V
– – immobilize the cardiac panel – –immobilize now , aeons proscribed—
poised for dark deletion.

x

logistics whirr, tandem in medicine
in the sugar-flecked malaise of rococo bleach ;
{ why were the pavers late? just. damn WH ..Y—[V“…you botched the pact, and I know
see that sacrilegious meta-claw, how it spumes
toxic, vilest-fresh from Wonderland.and you plead not, lifeless hallowed appeal! but
– -by the scheme-of-flesh, I vow
to raze the lights. decimation
’till I am free.

to the { pantheon of the morgue } , thou best bestow
offerings of an ilk no mortal should know :

x

unto Crescent Death , a palmful of amber shivers
– – to go fetchingly with the glimmer-blade that nips and dances and demon-prances
in the shelter of the keyhole-eye of Styx’s virgin coffer.— { } —
[[ the fanged un-deity should soon tell you–
–in strains wicked and mechanical, Cheshire cogs a-rattling for a knell–
that she likes them better stained with b l o o d . ]]

x

unto Half Death , a sliver of the deadest blue
– – see the phobo{scope} bare in its fractal readings:
sorrow-limbed breaths, violet-dyed {{ ….violent-. diedall over its mid-mortal anatomica— { } —
[[ such an offering should do to appease a youthscapeof starlets razed to plasmaNaughtby rending, retch-mongering ” v i r t u e “. ]]

x

unto Waning Death , a feather for an ink-doused thought
– – to accord a speck of beauty where ashes have long scribed
embered penance
into the left-over bones from monochrome expunged.— { } —
[[ and o brazen one, it is better to
pretend that you see not, covet not–
the butterfly graves that simmer a wistful, weeping froth
amidst her smoldering toes. ]]

x

and last of all , unto Waxing Death
an amethyst or two, to plant in city squares
of arachnid craft by the hands of stygian-garbed architects–
–and deeper still even, past neon shallows into atria wherein
brews the Primeval Dusk of the Morgue.— { } —
[[ if thou should dare plunge to gift–
–tread carefully.
for no hollower a domain is there in this realm
than the heart of the Waxing Death. ]]

If the only way my heart can beat for you,
is in a symphony of rage, a burst of vengeful ire,
in a bid for murder and flame and fire, more fire–

{ just k no.w … i ….

I’d feed it all the fuel in the world it could ever hope to crave.
// —want or need or thirst orh un ger—
to the brink of the Sullen hour in which my bones spell:
{ sweet – – blemished surrender. }
to the lavender-blue and lovely-pink of
the notion of { dying with you } .

Revenant, he’d found those eyes,
A siphoned blue, of fog’s final breath,
A tinkle of ether-magic, resigned to the courting of lesser greys that hobble and hunger
Those eyes he’d etch into constellated skin, mottled archways and satin grooves — bejewel those earthen stars that scaled his own paper spine —
Now tinseled with the flavor of him.

—

A sylvan conquest, he’d found that skin,
Territory of the most otherworldly design,
Home to quasi-fae that recline on homegrown heartbeats,
their darling, beating astral spells sown in the river of pulse,
and ivy pools that echo gingerly by the bank
That skin he’d bleed into (— perhaps, should his courage mount just an aching, aching notch—), ride the river of pulse that scorns Acheron’s mourning –
Like a ghost, tide-borne, in pursuit of a beckoning heart.